Five Times Augustus Hill Got Up and Walked Away v1
by Poetic-Serpentine
Summary: This was my entry for the Five by Six challenge held at ozrapsheet. This is the first version of the story in first person perspective and the stream of consciousness style.


You ever had that feeling? You know the kind, the one deep down in your gut that sends words slinging through your head - _wrong wrong wrong –_ and shivers down your spine.

I'm ten years old and I'm standing in front of Burr Redding, my almost-but-not-quite Pops, because a real Pops would never ask a thing like this from a ten year old, would he?

Would he?

Doesn't matter though, I don't have time to think about "would's" and "should's" because this is here and this is now and Burr Redding is telling me it's time to learn the business, it's time to start selling smack and it's _not _time to get a paper route and the echo in my head gets louder – _wrong Wrong WRONG. _

An' he's looking at me, all expectant and shit, and so what am I supposed to do, listen to the voices in my head? Cause that would be crazy.

_And selling smack ain't crazy? _

There it is. That feeling, that voice and Burr's looking at me funny but that's okay, cause I'm ten years old and what I do isn't supposed to be make any sense.

_Well, in that case… _

I love ya, Burr. I do. I really do. But there's that voice in my head, and as crazy as it would be to listen to it, it'd be even crazier to ignore.

Sorry, Burr. No drugs. Not for me.

The look on his face, it's like I've slapped him. He just sits there, he doesn't move, not a muscle, is he still breathing?

I can't look at him when he's like this. I have to get away from those eyes before they bore into me and destroy any thought I ever had of disobeying him.

But, I still am a good son. I make sure not to bang the door when I shut it behind me.

My Moms always told me to go to the church if I ever needed a moment of peace, a moment to think and so I do. 'Cause I'm a good boy, see?

_Yeah right. _

I go into the church and sit down in one of the pews and raise my head to the altar and stare.

There's Mary, sitting up there all alone –_the_ _VIRgin, baby – _looking all calm and at peace and reminding me of my Moms a little bit.

Moms would tell me not to run from my troubles. Moms would tell me to sit down, think about what I was doing and solve the problem without blood.

Without blood…

_Jesus bled, Momma, and wasn't that a good thing? _

That voice again. Would Moms tell me to listen to the voice in my head?

Someone's coming up the aisle and I feel like my heart's closing up in my chest. Something sharp shoots up my body and my throat tightens. It's Burr. He's found me. He's gonna punish me.

_Can't be hurt in a church, little one. _

Damn voice.

But no Burr, no worry, it's only old Father Lennox, stooped and graying, hobbling toward me with a little smile.

He asks if I need help with anything and I open my mouth to say forgive me father, for I have sinned or save me father, for I am weakbut then I remember who I am – _the little brother who turned Burr Redding down – _and decide I don't need no help, thank you very much.

I just grin at the father, hop off the pew and stroll down the aisle. Good advice, Moms.

But I was stupid, you know? Still am in some ways.

So I changed. I figured that. I knew it in that little church, that the old Augustus Hill – _Momma's little emperor, not so little anymore – _had burned right up and a new Augustus had been born, just like in those fairytales Moms used to read to me about them golden fiery birds, phoenixes I think.

But I didn't think Burr would change.

_Didn't think period, didja boy? _

Shut up.

Burr's different now and that's more terrifying than anything, having something stable and safe and familiar change. It's like losing my rock, my foundation.

Burr's silent. Oh, not to everyone, just to me. He don't comment on my refusal to join the business, he don't complain about my new job at the convenience store and he don't congratulate me on my new girlfriend, the fine, fine Annabelle.

He don't say much anything at all, to me that is, and so I don't say anything to him either.

I don't need him. Miserable ol' man, he don't know me and I don't need him. Fucker. But sometimes…no! Fuck, no!

But sometimes the words are there, bubbling up inside me, begging me to let them out – _Apologize! Apologize!_ – but I can't, I _can't. _I made my stand and I can't back down now.

It's not like losing a father. I been there, done that, and this ain't the same. Burr's not gone, not really, he's just…he's just…fuck, I don't know.

_Damn right you don't. _

So, with no answers and no plans, all I can do is wait. And wait I do – _wait is ALL I do_ – wait for nine fuckin' years until I'm a man proper.

Now, baby, now. Now I got plans.

Me and Annabelle, we gonna live together in a little apartment on the other side of town, me with a steady job – _a real fuckin' job_ – hopes for the future.

An' yeah, I cry a little when I'm saying goodbye to my Moms, but she was crying too and it's real hard for me, so fuck off, alright?

_Pussy. _

Not a pussy, not now, not every again.

_Thank you, Burr. _

Speaking of Burr, he's the only one that hasn't said goodbye. I'm standing in the doorway of my house – my HOME – for the last time and it's all emotional and shit, the tears are flowing, the smiles are sad and could he just. Fuckin'. LOOK AT ME.

Apparently, he can't. Ol' man Burr can't even be bothered to get up from his chair – _my chair, MY house_ – and come say goodbye.

Fine. Fuck him then.

Coat, suitcase, door, freedom. Up and away, baby, up and away.

So, someone told me once that it's always hard in the beginning. Always. No matter what you're doing, dancing, singing, asking a chick out for the first time, it's hard. Hard on you and hard on them. The others. The people around you.

So I knew this. I was prepared for this. I was ready to face the difficulties, the hurdles that life would toss in my way. I was ready to do battle with the baddest of the bad.

But until them struggles come, all I can do is wait.

_Waiting. Had a lot of practice doing that. _

But while I'm waiting I'm working, going to the store, doing the laundry, cooking dinner sometimes – _who's the real wife here, huh? – _and not thinking about Burr or Moms and the life I left behind.

'Cause I'm no fool, see? I know, I've learned now, that the more you dwell on what used to be, the more the memories will eat away at you.

Not that I'm in pain or anything. I'm not hurt. I'm just waiting.

Day in and day out, tick tock, tick tock.

_Nothing changes. _

Everyday I stand in the same spot behind the same counter of the same store. I come home to the same apartment at the same unholy hour and eat the same thing. I crawl into bed and maybe Annabelle's awake and smiling and maybe she's not. More often then not, she's asleep. Silent, like a fucking corpse.

But that's okay. I'm still waiting.

An' yeah, sometimes it's tiring dealing with the dull – _mo-not-ONY, baby – _but I am a man now, a real fucking grown-up.

_Yeah, right. _

I made my own decision. I broke out, I'm living my own life and I'm free. I did the right thing.

_You sure? _

Fuck, yes.

I'm fine. I'm good. I'm okay.

_But…_

But sometimes, there are just so many hours in the day and with nothing to do but wait and nothing to look forward at home, sometimes, _sometimes, _I have a little drink. Nothing much. Just a little drink.

_It's not a big deal, it's not like I'm a…a drunk or an alcoholic. Don't be checking me into AA or some shit like that. _

See, alcoholics, they got no self-control. Me, I'm in control. I'm a man, a full fucking man, and I'm controlling the bottle.

I can stop anytime I want.

_Well then, boy, why don't you? _

Thing is…I don't want to stop. The drinks have been good to me. All it takes is a few and then…and then…_bliss, baby, bliss. _

The bottle makes everything sweeter and softer. It smoothes out all the sharp edges and creates this warmth in my belly. The bottle makes everything better.

_Like Moms used to do… _

Fuck. Can't think about her. Remembering Moms is like prodding a sore tooth, that twinge of pain you just keep coming back too.

The bottle helps me forget about Mom, forget about those times when I was really happy, when I was on top of the fucking world.

_Not that I'm unhappy now, I'm just…waiting. _

Annabelle, I can tell she don't like it, but what can I do? Can she really expect me to give up my one little shot of pleasure? I did this for her. I'm stuck here for her!

But I'm not bitter. I'm just waiting.

And then one day, out of the blue, I get a letter. From Burr, of all people, who is requesting at meeting.

_Not that ol' Burr ever did much requesting. _

And I don't have to go. I don't _need _to go.

But I go anyways. Just like he expects.

I go to see him. I walk through my old front door and sit at my old kitchen cable and look at my old wooden clock and take the time to appreciate the humour in the situation. I'm a guest in my home.

_Irony, baby. _

And then, in walks the man himself.

Funny thing, time. Funny how it can change a person, imprint itself on their face. Burr's stooped, grizzled and his left leg drags a little on the floor when he walks.

_But gods can't age, right Augustus? _

Fuck off.

Try to speak, but as usual, Burr gets in first. He offers me a job, a chance to work alongside him, to sling and fight and die alongside him.

I don't whether to laugh or cry.

Some of his boys walk into the room and stand behind Burr, arms folded, his own personal bodyguards. I know those boys. I grew up with them, played basketball with them, bullshitted about girls with them.

But they're soldiers now. And I'm…fuck, what am I?

And then they start talking. Tell me all about the perks to life on the street…the girls, the money and…the tits?

I never did drugs. Never, not once in my life, I'll swear on anything you like. And I never will.

_But…_

But lately, it's been getting harder and harder to get a high with the bottle. Maybe the tits can…no! Fuck no!

But maybe, just maybe, I can try it. Just once. Only once. I swear. I'll swear on anything you like.

Burr and his boys lean in, all expectant like. They're waiting for my yes.

And Christ, I'm going to give it to them.

And then…I notice something.

Their smiles…they aren't really smiling just curving their lips and baring their teeth. They're clenching their fists and their skin is pulled tight across the knuckles.

And their eyes…their eyes are so black and empty and _dead…_

_No, no, no, no, no…_

I can't do this. I can't become like them. This can't be me. This isn't me.

The words spill out of me and the boys behind Burr growl and ready their claws. Burr stands up and looms over me, still big, still bigger than me.

I almost choke on my fear but then I remember that I don't care. I said no. I'm the little brother that turned down Burr Redding.

Burr opens his mouth but it's too late.

I'm still a good boy though. I don't bang the door when I shut it behind me.

So after that, I smartened up. I figured out some stuff, about myself, about the bottle and about what it really means to be a man.

I left the bottle, by the way. It was a wonderful relationship but I just felt that it was going anywhere, that my needs weren't being fully met. It wasn't her, it was me.

_Oh, man. _

Did you hear that? That was me, laughing. Laughing. Something I've missed and something I try to do everyday now.

It hasn't been easy, I can tell you that. Me and Annabelle, we've had to work hard and we've hit some bad patches, but in the end, we're here, happy and together.

And I realize now that sometimes the routine is the challenge. That sometimes, the difficulty can be no difficulties at all. At least, none that you can see.

And I promise, I promised before God and Annabelle and all things on this good, green earth that I will never bow down to the bottle, the routine or Burr Redding ever again.

_Yeah, right. _

I try, I really try. But when a letter comes from Burr, whose up in some penitentiary upstate, _requesting_ a visit, I go.

Because I have to.

Because I want to.

Fuck that.

Because I'm still a bitch.

Oswald is supposed to be the largest prison in the state but man, it feels tiny. The walls clamp down on you and the ceiling feels like its dropping and I can't help but keep my eyes fixed on the door.

_This was almost your home. _

Burr comes in, even older, even gruffer and even more gnarled. The guard who brings him in cuffs in and Burr hisses in pain.

_This was almost me. _

As usual, Burr does all the talking. He tells me how he wants to explain himself, explain why he done some of the things he done and why he is the way he is.

Far as I can see, Burr done the things he done because of the way he is. Same with me. Same with all of us.

When Burr starts in on how he raised me and loves me, I almost lose it. Almost.

His voice gets lower and lower and I'm ready, I'm waiting for him to snap.

And Burr, he doesn't disappoint.

He accuses me of being ungrateful. He shouts and yells and pounds his fist on the tables and the hum of background talk stops.

_I'm a good son. I'm not ungrateful. _

But Burr wants action, not talk. He asks me to prove it.

Prove it? To Burr? Can't. Won't.

_But…_

He asks me to deliver a package and I swear, I was _thisclose_ to saying yes when I saw Burr.

I mean, I've see him before, many times, but I've never really _seen _him, you know?

I saw him for what he is, a man. He is a tired man, bitter and broken after so many years of fighting and willing to do anything to survive.

And I respect that. I'm grateful for that. I always have been.

But I don't want to be like that. I don't want to just survive. I want to…

_Live. _

So I say no to Burr. Again. And I watch his face twist in pain and fuck if it don't make my insides clench but it has to be done. I can't live if I'm tied to Burr.

I guess there are some difficulties you don't just see. You feel them too.

It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, get up from that table and leave ol' Burr sitting there, silent and alone.

But I know, _I know, _he won't be silent for long.

By the time I get to the door of the visiting room, he's done it. He's snapped. He's wrestling off guards and swearing and spitting and I _squirm_ when I realize he looks more like a wild animal than my almost but not quite father.

_A wild animal trapped in a cage. _

A part of me wants to help me. But that voice in my head…

_Walk away, Augustus. _

So I do. Cause, let's face, it'd be crazy not to listen to the voices in my head, right?

When I step outside the prison, feel the sunlight and the air and the grass under my feet, I smile.

I did it. I made it.

I'm free.


End file.
